


Simon Snow is Exhausting

by Rory_writes



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Baz is in love, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:00:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26724790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rory_writes/pseuds/Rory_writes
Summary: 5th year Baz Pitch obsessing over Simon Snow while chilling at his mother's grave. The usual.
Relationships: Snowbaz - Relationship, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch & Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 4
Kudos: 20





	Simon Snow is Exhausting

**Author's Note:**

> I have written this in first person because that's the way Rainbow writes the CO/WS books, but no hard feelings if that puts you off with fanfics, you don't have to read :') 
> 
> Not beta read, also just for fun lmao  
> Be warned, sexual thoughts occur (no sexual acts committed)

I lean back against the crumbly, cold surface of my mother’s grave in the catacombs. It’s the first night all year that he hasn’t followed me like a Hellhound on my heels, but I can still feel my body waiting for him. There’s tension in my shoulders, my fingers are curled into anticipatory fists, and my stomach aches with the painful mixture of feelings he gives me. Simon fucking Snow. He’s been following me around all year, trying to catch me doing something disgusting so he can get me thrown out of the school, or worse, out of England if he tells the Mage I am a vampire. I look over at the bodies of the drained rats and sigh, pushing hair off my cheek and smudging dirt across my skin. I can feel it, gritty and cold, but it’s not colder than I am. I will always be colder. I am always cold.   
Except when Simon is there, filling me with unbearable rage at his pure existence. What makes it worse is that he doesn’t even have to be following me to make the night feel heavy with anticipation, all I have to do is think about him. What do I want from him? 

“Fucking little bastard,” I mutter, kicking my heels against the ground and then I blush and look up at mum’s grave sheepishly. “Sorry for swearing, but really, can you blame me? He’s the worst…” I tell her, but my heart isn’t in it. At least, not the insult. 

“What do I want from him?” I ask, this time aloud. I know that the rats and the ghosts of the catacombs won’t answer me, but it helps hearing the question in the heavy air. I close my eyes and his face, that fucking face, swims before me in the darkness. Simon with his messy, flaxen curls that never sits right, his plain blue eyes, his assortment of freckles, the moans and whimpers he makes in his sleep, the way he grinds his teeth when I have really angered him… him sucking his lip when he’s thinking hard, and his godforsaken smile.   
There’s a hot pull in my stomach and I feel myself going hard as I think about Simon and my eyes fly open. Having a crush on Simon in our first year was a pain in the arse, but even then I didn’t get hard every time I thought of him. Especially not at my mum’s grave.   
I clamber to my feet, say a quick goodbye to her, and walk out of the catacombs into the lighter, fresher, colder air. I consider going back to the room to wank away all thoughts of Simon, even though he would be on the other side of the bathroom wall, but I turn the opposite direction and sit up against a big tree, continually pushing thoughts of Simon away. It isn’t fair that he can exhaust me by following me everywhere, being in my room, fighting me all the time, and yet he’s just as exhausting as I fight him out of my thoughts. 

“Just. Go. Away!” I half-groan and half-shout, burying my fingers in the dirt at my side. I don’t want Simon to be the axis my world revolves around, he’s already my enemy, why can’t it just end with that? I pull my wand out of my coat pocket and press it to my temple, knowing the spell I’m about to use is extremely advanced and you aren’t supposed to use it until your eighth year, and I am only in fifth.

“Penny for your thoughts!” I cast and when I pull my wand away I wave it in the air in front of my face until the air shimmers and the words I am in love Simon Snow glow silver against the night, like tiny stars just for me. Reading the words stabs me in the heart, it physically hurts me to see them in the open and I blow them out like a child making a wish on a birthday cake. 

“Tell me something I don’t know,” I whisper as the words fade, putting my wand away and climbing back to my feet. I may as well go to bed, Simon will be asleep now if he hasn’t been wandering the grounds looking for me. He could be lost in the catacombs and I couldn’t care less. At least, that’s what I tell myself as I detour back to the catacombs and stand at the entrance listening for his particular and familiar heartbeat, trying to see if I can sense his smell of fire and smoke, or sense his hot, seductive magic. He isn’t in there so I seal the entrance and trudge all the way to the top of Mummers House, and even from behind the door I can hear his heartbeat and sense his magic. He’s sleeping fitfully, ill at ease, but that is hardly surprising for him. I push the door open and he rolls in his sleep as if sensing my presence. His hand falls off the side of the bed and curls against the floor, a soft sigh escaping his lips as if he’s relieved, and he stops fighting his sleep demons. He sinks into his bed, smooshing his face into his pillow and his breathing steadies into a familiar, resting pace. I close the door as quietly as I can and change into my pyjamas from home before sliding under the covers of my bed. I lie on my stomach like he is, pillowing my head on my arm and resting my own hand on the floor. My fingers twitch, wanting to reach out and touch him, but I don’t. Once, last year, his shivering woke me up and I tried to put his blanket up around his shoulders (because his shivering was keeping me up, not because I was looking after him or anything) and he nearly killed me when it woke him up. He didn’t mean to, I don’t think, I’m pretty sure it was an instinct, a side effect of being hunted I guess, but I won’t ever touch him when he’s asleep again. 

“Have a good walk?” He asks and I flinch, looking up from his hand to meet his eyes. He looks annoyed, like he can’t believe I have the audacity to be in our room, and he looks smug like he always does when he hints that he knows what I am. I roll onto my other side, not warranting his question with a response, and I swallow the urge to apologise for waking him up. I don’t owe Simon Snow anything. I hear him tuck his arm back onto the bed and pull the covers over him, but I can sense him watching me, his blue-eyed gaze burning the back of my skull. Merlin, he hates me so much it might be enough to set me on fire. 

And I love him enough that that may also set me on fire.

**Author's Note:**

> You can come talk to me on Tumblr: @shippinggayandallthatjazz @andrew-is-foxy @tsc-living  
> I also post book related content and cosplay on TikTok @rae_reads


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